By Beverly Ann Meyers
Over time, maturity has come and I am ready for the next phase of my life. Unexpected stirrings fill my body as I laze upon the window seat in the bedroom. Emotions entice me to think only of him.
I’ve noticed him at the garden gate more often. I don’t know his name, but it doesn’t matter. He is big and strong with a deep voice that calls out to me, and I, in turn, answer.
I look out the open window in the back bedroom. He announces his presence with his usual vocal call. He wants me, and I desire him.
His muscular body is so lithe and long. I imagine how his touch will feel. Will he be gentle? Or, will he ravage me? These tormenting thoughts send signals to forgo any misgivings and obey my longing. I want to be consumed, and I crave for him to come into me deeply and completely.
The basement door has a flap. This leads to the fenced-in garden at the back of the house. I race from the bedroom, go downstairs to the basement, and reach the backdoor. To nudge the flap open is easy enough. With one push, I am free.
The fresh air feels cool on my face. Any hint of trepidation is wafted away by a gentle breeze. A deep breath washes over me, and I am ready.
He leaps over the fence. We greet each other. He is much larger than I thought. In one swift motion, he is on my back. I cry as he enters me. The pain intensifies, and tears at my insides, but I don’t care. For this brief time, he is mine, and I am his.
When we are finished, he turns to face me. One last cry of pain comes from my mouth. We are exhausted, but satisfied. We look at each other.
I study his features, indelibly etching them in my mind. The right ear has a notch in it, most likely from a fight. His eyes have a subtle fire. The nose has a slight bump on the bridge. His dark body hair is thick and glistens.
I watch him dash away and jump over the fence. Somehow I know I’ll never see him again. But hopefully, when the litter is born, at least one kitten will resemble him.
Beverly Ann Meyers is a Temple University graduate with a Bachelor’s Degree in Secondary Education. She taught science and mathematics in the Philadelphia School system and later worked with professors and graduate students in the Economics Department of the University of Pennsylvania.
For about 30 years she has been writing fiction, novels, and short stories which take place in Philadelphia, PA: Go to the Wishmonger, and a three-part murder mystery series Pinned for Death, Auditioned for Death, and Fired for Death are available on Amazon.
Beverly is a member of the Wannabes, a critique group which meets weekly in The Villages, Florida. Also, Beverly is a member of the Writer’s League of The Villages. She currently resides in Florida with her husband.